


Apocalyptic Shock

by airy_nothing



Category: Glee
Genre: 4x22, Episode Related, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 18:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airy_nothing/pseuds/airy_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam reacts to Brittany’s news, and keeps reacting, as he stands there during  Miss Pillsbury and Mr. Schue’s impromptu wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apocalyptic Shock

For all the times Sam thought about the end of the world and imagined the tsunamis and sea monsters the apocalypse would bring in its wake, he never knew the end would come quite so suddenly or so simply. Or that it would be so personal. In fact as he stood within his circle of friends as they witnessed vows being exchanged, he knew that the only world that was truly ending was his own. 

Everyone else’s, of course, was just beginning. Here they all were watching Miss Pillsbury and Mr. Schue slip rings on each other’s fingers in the middle of the choir room, and all Sam could do was note the rose petals scattered about the floor, and how some lay face up like tiny red bowls. The flowers reminded him of Brittany’s room, which made him think of gardens and sunlight and love. And cheese, he thought, smiling ruefully. 

As Sam continued to stand in the ring, he glanced at Blaine, whose expression seemed to be the complete opposite of his own. Sam could feel more tears threatening (so he clamped his jaw tight, he focused on making fists), and sensed that Blaine was just as tightly-wound—but with a different kind of energy. Sam knew for a fact that Blaine had Kurt’s ring in his pocket—and even if his proposal turned out to be a spectacularly bad idea, at the moment, he had to admit, it felt full of promise. 

It could be just like Mr. Schue and Miss Pillsbury—the start of a life together. At that thought the image of Lady Tubbington flashed in his mind, her crazed look as he’d presented her to Brittany—when his own desire for family, even a fake one, had reached a new intensity. Why did he always leap ahead like that? With rings or promises or pets?

Santana caught Sam’s gaze for a moment, her eyebrow raised slightly, and Sam tried to ignore the pang he felt at Brittany opening up first to her and not him. Earlier this year he’d been the one to notice the truth behind Brittany’s meltdown, the brilliance of it, really, and she had confided in him. He was the one who noticed things, after all, wasn’t he? And yet he didn’t want to think about what people noticed in _him_ , or didn’t. Or probably, what they noticed and decided wasn’t enough.  

The circle broke as the ceremony ended, and when Brittany made eye contact at last Sam felt a fresh wave of emotion. Blinking back tears, he smiled at her. (How could he not be ecstatic for her, thrilled that so many could finally see what he’d long known to be true?)

She walked slowly toward him, her own eyes shining. Sam watched as she stopped and  crouched over the roses, the purple satin of her competition dress draped over her shoes. As she plucked petals from the floor, Sam tried to simply notice—well, everything, really. He’d lock it away with all the other memories, like he always did. 

He would remember her astonished face as he knelt on the floor of the library and held out a ring box, his arms outstretched and hopeful. He would remember the way the wreath of flowers made her look magical. His Mayan star princess. His soulmate, he’d called her, back when they thought the world would burn, when they thought they’d meet their fate, hand in hand, under the turbulent sky.


End file.
